News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1887-07-21
THE CHILD LED HIM
BY MARY B. SMITH.

BY MARY B. SMITH.
Ill news travels fast. Therefore it is
not surprising that the whole town O.
DeermOnt had heard of Benton's sus
pension from Bayard College, before
the arrival of the evening train thai
brought the young man himself. He
had not delayed his departure from the
scene of his downfall.
During the long ride by rail to his
native village, there were constantly be.
fore him the interview with the libra
rian, and, later, the official notice OF
his suspension. Not but that he had
studiously avoided thinking of the mat
ter ever since its occurrence-witness
his wild gayety of the evening before,
and the farewell supper with his special
cronies, who this morning had cut their
recitations to accompany him part way
on his journey home. They had all
left the train now, and few more sta
tions would bring them to Deermont.
He gave careful attention to the seem
cry, watched his fellow passengers
closely, and tried in every way to keep
from the consciousness of what was in
his coat pocket-that terrible envelope
bearing the college seal and inclosing
the short but decisive notice of his sus-
pension. Not that he had called it ter
rible when the post boy brought it to
his room. How he had ioked about it
with the fellows who were with him,
laughed over the phraseology, and con
temptuously tossed it aside! Now,
whichever way he moved. he was sure
To L., e.
existence. If he bent to open the win
dow, rattle went the accusing paper; if
he hunted for change for the peanut
boy, he put his hand into that pocket
by mistake; when he passed out his
ticket, his arm always set the paper rat
ting again and set his thoughts goino.
But they were not very deep thoughts.
They could all be summed up in these
passionate words: 81 will never return.
They may call il suspension if they
please, but I am through with Bayard
altogether. / shall never darken her
doors again. Her precious books are all
safe from me-'Stewart's Comparative |
History and all the rest. Until Md
year examinationsr = Until mid-year
forever 1 will never return"
''Deermont Deermont - called the
brakeman.
Benton was disappointed not to see
his brother Chapman at the depot with
the team to take him the two miles
drive up to the farm. Then, remem-
bering how i'll the child had been, and
that he was only Just about again, he
judged it likely that his aunt did not
think it wise to have him out so late in
the evening. In his place were three of
the village boys. It did not need three
to rein in his uncle s wOTnout farm horse;
but it was a great event to go down for
''Benton, who has been expelled from
college" The boys greeted him in a
constrained manner, which seemed to
say, "We know, but we won't say any
thing about it" Their stiffness, to-
gether with a slight condescension, was
intolerable to Benton, and as he took the
reins he broke out: ''See here, boys
Don't look so solemn. 1 haven't killed
anybody. / am Just coming home on
Jolly vacation to last from now to for
everi"
''Ain't yer goin' back 2" asked Ben.
''Oh, no! They were afraid [ worlld
learn too much Go along!"
"Was that what yer come home fur?
Cause yer couldn't do the lessons p
asked Dick, keen enough to see that
Benton was not in earnest, but not quite
Understandings what was meant.
Nonsense! no." answered Benton,
sharply. 81 stood higher than lot of
others-almost the very highest Twas
Just a little bother about book. You
know they think so much of books up
there-get up!-that they can't have
them moved bit out of place, and l
e I
here"
''Mr. Benton is jokin' us, - said Ned.
'No, I'm not, honestly. That's Just
what it was; and if you wish to go to
college YOU must let all books alone!'
Benton laughed; partly at the idea of
these boys who wouldn't go to school,
wishing to go to college, partly at his
satire ON letting books alone, partly be-
cause he was desperately unhappy.
The boys laughed, too. They under
stood that learning was being made fun
of, and wasn't at all sorry; they sus-
pected, also, that law and order of some
kind was scoffed at, and that delighted
them.
Chip has had the scarlet fever, did
yer knowl" asked Ned, wishing to give
SONS information.
''Oh, yes, know it" returned Ben
ton. ''He has written me since it was
over"
''That's why We come" explained
Dick, % cause twas so late. He cried
like everything, though"
''Get up, will you!" said Benton,
ceizing the whip. Two more hills and
he would see Chapman again. What
year of separation it had beenI
There was the child's face at the
window; and now they were together,
Chip sitting on his brothers knee, his
eyes fixed on his face. Benton was try
ing to explain to his uncle and aunt the
reason for his suspension. [ say ''try-
ing" for with Chips grave face watch
ing him he found himself unable to
speak in so fippant and jocose a way as
he had spoken to the boys who drove
him up. 1t was long and fretful CON
yersation.
"What can't see anyway was what
you were a-touchin' the books for. l
should think you would have known
enough not to touch the shelves" "
"Ain't there q boy or sOmethin' to get
the books for you2"
''But you don't understand. These
books We're reserved for us. We could
go to them whenever We wished to use
them in the library, and take home at
night. just laid one where [ could get
it when 1 wanted it.
"Well, well! think it's awfully con-
fusin'.
No wonder the hooks get mixed!"
No sense in trIstin boys that way"
Why should they go to savin' the
books for the students, and then ex-
petiiln them for layin them in the wrong |
place." '-O'0
l wish you wouldn't keep saying
'eXpelllng, aunty. Tn only suspended !
till February of next year.
IN February next yearl That's q
pretty thingl"
Il can't make out why you are ssug-